Lady Punisher
by Rimeko
Summary: Soon after Frank had moved in her flat, Karen learnt that some men she had been investiguating on decided it was a good idea to come after him to threaten her - and she was very determined to prove them that the two of them weren't people you wanted to mess with. It was also the day where she discovers that the Punisher's bullet-proof vest was also fitting her quite well.
1. 1 Package

My first attempt at writing a longer fic ! (Well, 10K words and 8 chapters aren't that much, but I never wrote more than 1K-words-long one-shots before so.)

Hope you'll like it !

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Karen dropped herself on the couch and turned the TV on, hoping the noise could make her forget about her worries. She shook her head, making one of her blonde locks slip accross her face. She was being silly. Yeah, Frank hadn't answered his phone since something like 3 or 4 pm, and it was getting late, but he was just at work – his construction work, not something more dangerous, at least according to what he had said and she trusted him not to lie to her, not ever. Probably his cellphone just had run out of battery and he would be there in a few minutes, bringing take-out from either the Indian accross the street or the Chinese a few blocks away, and...

Wait, wasn't that footsteps just outside their flat ?

She got up, heart pounding in her chest, listening carefully. She didn't hear the caracteristic clicking of his keys, but to be honest she didn't hear anything except for the TV. She turned it off and took a few steps towards their entrance door. A part of her brain told her to stay quiet, because who knew who could be outside – prudence had become an habit, especially those last couple of weeks when she had been investigating on a pretty nasty gang of kidnappers and drug dealers.

Karen glanced through the spyhole. She spotted nothing, no one. Maybe the foorsteps she heard were in one of their neighbours' appartments, or on the TV, or on another story... However, just to be sure, she opened her door. The corridor was empty, of course. She was ready to go back inside when her gaze fell on a package placed at her doorstep. Her heart sank in her chest and her grip on the handle tightened.

She let the door open, the mysterious box untouched, took the metal detector she might have stolen from Frank – well, now that they were living together, it wasn't stealing anymore right ? – and moved it around the package. Nothing. So, not a bomb. Karen stood up, biting her lower lip, then she decided to take the thing inside, closed the door with her foot and walked to the counter. She took a knife, cut through the adhesive tape and carefully opened it. Inside, there was an USB stick and a smaller box. She laid down the first next to her and went to open the second.

A brain took a second to process what she was seeing. Then she screamed, dropped the box and pressed both her hands against her mouth to prevent herself from vomiting.

That was a cut-off bloodied human finger, a fucking _finger_.

Something shiny had fallen too and was at her feet. She took a deep breath, doing her best to think straight, and picked it up. It was a ring, a simple golden ring – but she had quite a clear idea of whose ring it might be. She looked at the inner surface and spotted almost immediatly the letters engraved there – her own name. Her eyes fell on a very similar jewel she had been wearing since last month, since Frank offered it to her with a grin and a « I've always been old-school » that sounded both like an apology and a proposal.

When she finally apprehended what that meant, she ran to the toilets and bent over to throw up.

She cleaned her mouth with water from the tape and stayed there for a while, hands clenched on the ceramic. She looked up at her reflection. All blood had left her face and her blue eyes were wide with fear, horror... and anger.

Someone had come after Frank and this won't end well for them. If he didn't take care of this himself, she would be far more than ready to step in.

Karen went back to their livingroom, a new determination in her whole posture, and put the USB stick in her computer. There was only one file on it, a video. She opened it, bracing herself up for what she suspected to found. It was exactly what she thought it would be – a tape. A masked man was facing the camera.

« Is it on ? »

Someone behind probably nodded.

« So, Miss Page, this is a final warning. If you mind your own business, don't write anything in your paper and don't go to the NYPD, we will leave you alone. And trust me, we have the means to know if you ever decide to break those rules. »

There were muffled screaming coming from somewhere out-of-frame. She crossed her arms against her chest, gnawing at her lip again until she drew blood. The metallic taste filled her mouth.

« We want you to delete every pic, record or file you might have about us, including this tape, by midnight. We also want you to come there... »

He was showing a piece of paper where an adress was scribbled. She let out a nervous laugh – that was so ridiculous.

« … with the register you stole from us. »

She wanted to yell at them. She didn't _have_ that goddamn register anymore, of course not, she wasn't stupid enough to left it just lying around in their flat for anyone to find, or to carry it with her. She had straight up put it where it would be safe – meaning in the police station. And there was no way she was getting it back before midnight.

« If you don't... well, I think we have here someone you care about. »

The camera moved to reveal Frank tied up to a chair and gagged. One man was pointing a gun at his head and another was standing near, visibly waiting for orders – those came through a hand gesture from the one who had been talking. He hit Frank several times, in the face, in the chest, until he bent over, fighting to breath through the white fabric pressed against his mouth – his blood was turning it red. The impacts and his grunts of pain echoed in the room.

Karen had her teeth clenched, trying as hard as she could to keep her composure, but a gasp escaped her nonetheless when a punch harder than the others was followed by bones cracking.

Finally, the man stepped back and the camera came back to the speaker.

« I guess you understand now why you have to obey, Miss Page. Otherwise, we will kill your... boyfriend, I guess, right ? And it won't be pretty, I swear. »

Her fists clenched. If the man had been in front of her, she was sure she would try to kill him, even with her bare hands if that was what it would take.

« Oh, and also, I got three men hiding near the entrance of this building, so don't even think about calling the police or whoever on this. If they see anyone they will call me and... bang. »

He mimicked the gesture of pulling a trigger and Karen felt her mouth go dry.

« Hey, look, he got some kind of engagement or wedding ring. »

The voice had come from off-screen and the speaker turned his head that way.

« It would be nice to send it to her, right ? » The voice added. « So she really knows this is real and not a set-up. »

The man in command hesitated a bit, then his gaze came back to the camera. Karen felt like he looked her right in the eyes and a shiver ran down her spine.

« Yeah, yeah, good idea. Take it. » He paused for a sec, and when he talked again she could swear he was smiling under his mask. « _With_ his finger. »

There were laughs, then a bit after a muffled cry of pain.

Karen closed hastily the tab, exhaled slowly, realizing she had been holding her breath, and stared at her computer screen. Anger was building up in her chest. She checked her phone one last time. Still no news of Frank – she was sure he would have text her as soon he got free if he had.

So, that meant he hadn't – that meant it was her turn to save him, for once.

And as she doubted they would be comprehensive if she just came in without the register and explained the situation – police station and all –, that means she would have to give more... unconventional methods a shot. She would lie if she said that thought only brought fear in her heart – there was a dark, twisted satisfaction too. Those assholes were going to learn the hard way that Frank and her weren't people to go after.

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Thanks for reading, and I would love to hear your thoughts !


	2. 2 Phone call

Here is the second chapter ! It's a bit shorter, but it seems fitting to stop there...

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Her phone at her ear, bare-footed, Karen was pacing accross her livingroom.

« Come on, David, come on... » She mouthed through clenched teeth.

The man finally picked up his own phone and she hold back a sigh of relief. She felt just as restless as if her blood was boiling in her veins.

« Karen ? »

He sounded surprised and perhaps a little anxious, or maybe it was just her that was projecting her own worry.

« Why are you calling ? Did something happen ? »

She smiled bitterly. Fuck, a normal person would have probably assume she just wanted to chat, or maybe to invite them over for dinner or anything unharmful like that. But that was their lives ; unexpected calls, especially late in the evening, always meant bad news. You didn't come close to death as often as they had without adapting.

« Yes, David... yes, something did happen. »

She inhaled sharply and ran her hand through her blonde hair, attempting to steady herself.

« It's Frank. Some men I was investiguating on, they took him, they beat him, they are threatening to kill him if I don't follow their instructions, and they said I can't call the police because the building is supervised and... »

« Wow, wow, wow, slow down Karen. First of all, I'm not sure I got this straight ; did those men really thought it was a good idea to, like, kidnapp Frank to get to you ? You're sure it's not the other way around ? »

She could have smile, maybe even chuckle, if she wasn't that freaked out.

« Apparently yes, they thought so. I think they might have drugged him or something, or... Look, David, all I know is that I saw a tape where he was tied up and gagged and some asshole has a gun pointed at his head. I don't think he'll be able to get out of it all by himself. »

« Okay... It probably feels like a stupid question, but are you sure this was real ? »

This time a small, unhappy giggle escaped her lips.

« Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure. They sent to me a... uh... one of his fingers with his, like, engagement ring, as you call it. »

Saying those words aloud brought her mind back to her macabre discovery and a wave of nausea hit her.

« Oh shit. Fuck. I'm sorry, Karen, I'm... »

She didn't want to hear that.

« David, I need your help. »

« Yeah, sure, of course. What can I do for you ? »

« I was just thinking you... you can still trace down Frank's phone, right ? »

« … Yes. Yes, I can. Wait a sec, I'm getting a hold at my computer. »

She heard footsteps, some words – probably at Sarah – and then the bipping of a computer.

« Don't tell Frank I still can do that, he asked me to turn it off weeks ago. »

« I think that's the least of our worries right now. »

She still felt kinda grateful, beacause she knew those words were trying to make her feel better despite the situation.

« Hum, yeah. Wait a bit more, Karen, it... here it is. You got a piece of paper ? »

« Mmh-mmh. »

David dictated an adress to her – the same as the one the men had given her, in the tape, asking her to come there to give them their register back. Were there really stupid enough to make her come at the same place Frank was in ? Well, she won't complain, since it would make things so fucking more easy for her...

« What are you planning to do now ? You're gonna call the police, right ? »

« Thanks for your help, David. »

« Wait, hold on ! What are you up to, Karen ? »

She didn't reply – she knew damn well the answer won't please him.

« Nothing restless, I hope, uh ? » He insisted.

« No... »

« Karen. Please, don't bullshit me. »

She sighed loudly.

« Fine, fine ! I'm going to get him back. »

« What ?! No, Karen, you can't do th- »

She hung up before he had the chance to say anything else, to try to make her change her mind. It would be pointless – it won't change, because she knew what she had to do.

She took a deep breath. Now was the time to act. She put her phone back in her skirt pocket, went to their bedroom, tied her hair up in a ponytail, put on some baskets, took a bag. She tossed in it a book who had the same size as the register they wanted to get back, along side with her beloved .380 and some ammos. She paused for a sec, reflexing on what else she had to take with her. She added the keys to Frank's basement, as they used to call it, the place where he kept his guns. She needed something more efficient than her pistol – luckily, now she knew how to use most of them.

As she was crossing their living room again, a spark of light reflecting on Frank's ring caught her eyes. She licked her lips, feeling sick again, then she put the jewel at her thumb – the only finger large enough so that it wouldn't slip – without looking for too long at the blood staining it.

Before exiting their flat, Karen put on her trench coat, because it was long enough to hide a lot of things – like a goddamn riffle – under it, then she slammed the door behind her.

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Thanks for reading, I hope you still like it ! I'll try to update asap, but reviews could motivate me a bit more :D


	3. 3 Basement

Here, new update !

(Sorry, I know, my chapters are kinda short, but I'll upload the rest of the story asap !)

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The night air was chilly, but Karen couldn't care less. She was walking fast, head bent, looking down at her feet and the pools of light the street lamps were pouring on the pavement. Her thin hands were curled up in fists and her nails were bitting on the soft flesh of her palms.

Sooner than what she had been expecting, she found herself in front of the building she was heading at. She circled it, went down a few steps, pushed the metallic door and found herself in a poorly-lighted corridor. On each side were little rooms people could rent to put there some furniture or whatever stuff they wanted out of the way – in their case, that "stuff" was enough guns to give anyone a heart-attack.

Hell, even her was breathless for a sec after she closed the door behind her and turn on the neon lights, even though that wasn't the first time she had come here. That really was a fucking lot of weapons, to the point where it made her slightly unconfortable. It wasn't that it was reminding her how much blood the man she loved had on his hands, not really – that was something she just couldn't ignore anyway, not when living on a daily basis with Frank and his scars and his nightmares. It was most like it was... shit, it was a goddamn arsenal, that was all.

Her bag crashed near her feet and Karen took a few steps towards the wall, where every gun had been carefully suspended. Her fingetips brushed against a frame-thrower and what she believed to be a bazooka – she had to admit it was tempting, but no.

She took instead the assault riffle she was confortable with, because she had fired with it a few times – at empty unmoving cans, yeah, but that was better than nothing.

When she span around, looking for magazines, her gaze fell on Frank's bullet-proof vest, the one with the infamous white skull spray-painted on it. She remembered he said it was caughting the ennemy's eyes so they would be firing at it and not at more vulnerable body parts. She shrugged. Well, she wasn't planning on getting shot tonight, so why not – that was the reasonable reason though, because the dark part of her being was delighted at the idea of showing up with this on her chest and looking at those assholes' faces when they would recognize the Punisher's symbol.

Karen took her trench coat off and put on the vest. She had to tighten the straps to their full range so it fitted her slim frame, but it would do his job. She then grabbed some addhesive tape and used it to maintain the riffle against her chest, hidden by her coat. She examined her work with a critical gaze – she looked a bit larger and kinda stiff, however it wasn't too obvious.

It would have to do it, anyway.

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As Karen was getting close to the adress she had been given, she tried to focuse on her breathing to steady herself. That wasn't really working though, mostly because she felt the weight of the assault riffle tapped against her chest each time she inhaled. The reminder wasn't as reassuring as she thought it would be – as she _hoped_ it would be.

God, suddenly she wasn't so sure it was a great idea after all. When you got a gun, you had to be ready to use it, she knew that, but... was she really ready to pull the trigger, to kill ? She had done it before, however tonight she would have to be the one to make the first move, she would not have the luxury to just react, caught in the action, without a second thought. For God's sake, she was the one coming in with a military gun !

She shook her head, as if it could push away her thoughts.

Those men would have gladly kill her if it wasn't for the register they wanted to get back, she didn't have the slightiest doubt on that. Moreover they were threatening to kill Frank, and even though they probably would not actually do it at midnight – because if so they would lose their leverage – she was positive they were going to hurt him more. That being said, she really didn't want to found another tape – or worse – on her doorstep. So there was only one path, and it was forward.

Karen's hand clenched on the strap of her bag and her pace quickened. Memories of the last year flashed in her mind. Their first encounter, in the hospital, the dinner, the woods where she had said he was dead to her. That make her scoffed – boy, how had that changed. Then the time he had reached out again, searching for Micro, the metting by the river at night – "I want there to be an after, for you" _and I maybe a little bit for me too_ –, the time he came to rescue her, the elevator. She had known at that time, or at least she had finally acknowledged, that she loved him. What she didn't know, though, was when exactly she had fallen for him. Right from the beginning, she had seen past what the medias said he was – a maniac, a psycho-killer – but from that to romance, there was a rather big step. But there was no arguing with her heart and so, a few months later, they were officially dating – no matter how irrealistic it sounded.

That had led them to live together. Now Karen was used to call that flat "theirs", she was used to fall asleep in his strong embrace, wearing one of his shirts on top of her sleep pants, and to wake-up on Sunday mornings to the smell of pancakes – turned out that Frank was a great cook when he grew tired of canned goods and take-outs. She was used to have someone waiting for her when she left her office, or to wait for him to come _home_ on other days. And there were so many other things – him paying for her order at the coffee shop the days he left for work to early to see her, the pages they marked when they were reading a book so the other would know that they had found that funny or thoughtful, the pics of cute dogs they were sending each other, the long talks in the bed with the lights out...

She wasn't losing that.

Karen repeated this thought in her head like a mantra as she crossed the parking lot that was separating her from her destination. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of light on what might have been a gun, pointed at her – one of the watchers posted outside the building, probably. It didn't matter. They were letting her in.

Hell, what a mistake.

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Thanks for sticking with me ! I'd love to hear your thoughts...  
There will be action in the next chapter :D


	4. 4 Gunshots

Karen glanced around. She was in a little room, with shelves on the poorly-painted walls and a desk in the middle – maybe an office, back in the days where this building was still used ? A broken camera was hanging sadly in one of the upper corners.

When she had stopped as the door of what looked like an abandonned warehouse, a man had appeared before she had the time to do anything – the watchmen outside had probably warned him of her arrival. He had lead her inside the building, barely without a word, and for a bried second she had wondered if they were planning on killing her right there. That would make sense – she was supposed to have deleted all the files she had on them and to have brought that fucking register, the one which was in the police station out of her reach, with her. Her hand had found her way in her bag to the handle of her .380 and the feeling of the cold metal against her palm had been conforting.

"Gimme the register now Miss Page."

She focused back on the man with her.

She could only see his eyes because of his mask, but they were wide and kinda childlish. There was also a tremor in her voice. Karen did her best to hide her surprise – what, they really thought she was that harmless ? She still had managed to stole the register right under their nose and to shot one of them when he had found her doing what she did best – digging into shit she wasn't supposed to dig in. Or they decided he was an expendable loss. That, that wouldn't surprised her.

"How do I know me and... and my... boyfriend..."

The word seemed so strange.

"How do I know you'll let us go ?"

He shrugged.

"Guess you'll just have to trust us, Miss Page."

He was trying to sound confident and slightly threatening, but that wasn't really convincing. Karen almost felt offended that they had sent him to deal with her.

"And if I doesn't ?"

She crossed her arms against her chest – feeling the shape on the riffle under her trench coat – and held up her chin. She was taller than him, even without heels.

"I have set a program on my phone, you know. If I just press a certain button and shake it, it calls the police and displays my location."

He looked puzzled, so she pushed.

"So, if you attempt anything... I guess you can see what will happen."

"But... but if the police comes, we will kill our hostage."

Her heart clenched at that words, but she did her best to hide it.

"I know, that's why I'll call them only if we're already in danger. It's a safety, you see, so you don't even think about messing up with me."

Karen took a deep breath. Talking time was almost over now...

"So, that being said, you just have to bring my... boyfriend there, and I'll give you what you want, and we'll both leave, okay ?"

"But... that... You're supposed to give it to me first, and..."

She shook her head.

"No."

"But... I... Okay, I'll see with the others. Stay there."

She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a satisfied smile.

"If you try to run away, know that there are guards outside." He added.

She nodded.

"I won't move."

He looked at her for a few more secs, then he muttered something indistinct and finally left the room. Karen sighed in relief – it was exactly what she was waiting for. She took off her trench coat, revealing the white skull on her chest, took off the tape keeping the riffle in place and checked one last time if it was loaded. She leaned against the desk, eased the weapon against her shoulder and aimed at the door, approximately at head level. Then she waited. She was suddenly very calm, heart beating slowly in her chest, steady hands and dertemined gaze.

After a few minutes, she caught footsteps in the corridor and her finger ghosted on the trigger. It felt like the door opened very slowly, creaking, revealing the masked face of the man who she had talked to. He stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening as he spot the gun barrel pointed at him – but she had already fired. As he hit the ground, without having had the time to process what had happened, Karen heard warried mumbles outside, so she didn't move. Then two men came in, then two gunshots rang at her ears.

She lowered her riffle, listening carefully. No one seemed to be on her immediate surroundings. She stepped over the dead bodies at the doorstep, glimpsed in the corridor... and backed up quickly after she had came face to gun with another man waiting outside. The bullet hit the wall a few inchs away from her head and her blood ran cold. She could have died, right here.

But she hadn't.

In a blink, she was outside the room, her shoulder bumping against the wall in front of the door. Her weapon twitched in her hands as she took the shot. Karen missed, but the other didn't and a throb of pain under her breast told her a bullet had hit her vest. She was right to have put it on. Her second attempt put her opponent on the ground, grunting in pain. She kicked his pistol far away from him, checked if he was bearing another weapon – he wasn't –, picked up his gun and put it under one of the straps of her vest, thinking it could always be useful. When she straightened herself again, she noticed the injured man's gaze locked up on her chest... or rather on the white skull there.

"You're... you can't be him..."

Karen tilted her head a bit, enjoying the moment despite herself.

"You aren't the Punisher."

"Nah, but he's a friend."

She had to hold back a smile – a "friend", uh... More like a lover, though that was more Frank Castle than the Punisher she was in love in. The second didn't really do well with friends.

She raised her arm, pointing her riffle at the man's fronthead.

"He would kill you." She added in a matter-of-fact tone, then lowered her weapon. "But I won't. Moreover, I want you to tell the others that there is a lady in town too."

Then she walked away.

She had felt so damn powerful in that moment. Like, for once, she was in control of her own life and she was finally able to fight for the people she cared about, to protect them instead of being always the one that needed protection. Now the tables had turned and for she was the one bad guys were frightened by.

Her footsteps were echoing along the empty and poorly-lighted corridors, as she wasn't even trying to muffle them. The assault riffle in her hands had warmed up and it was a conforting weight. It was easy to fire at a man right in front of you in such a narrow path – you didn't have the time to think about what you were doing. She was acting on instinct solely, and a part of her was a bit frightened by how good her instinct was at it. It was almost too easy.

As to proved her wrong, a bullet hit her back. She winced in pain and her grip on her weapon loosened – to the point she dropped it when two more bullets found their target. She finally managed to turn around, trying her best to ignore her aching body, and took the handgun she had picked up earlier out of the waistband of her shirt – her own was still in her bag, out of reach for now. She got shot once more – and this one was really close to her exposed skin – before firing in turn. He wasn't wearing any bullet-proof clothes, so the fight was over in a sec.

Karen brushed back a loose lock of blonde hair, catching her breath, then reached out for the riffle at her feets. She swallowed the lump in her throat – she almost died _again_ – and hastily leaved the area.

She was beginning to wonder if David's informations, about the location of Frank's phone, were correct – or maybe the cellphone was there but the man wasn't, or... – when she stumbled accross a guarded door. One bullet was enough to clear the way and she tightened her grip on her weapon before kicking the door open. There was two people there – one of the gang members, and the man she was there for. She shot the first without a second thought.

Karen lowered her riffle as their opponent stumbled backward, then fell on the ground, hands clentched at the holes in his chest. Her attention immediatly flew to Frank, still tied up, who was looking at the now-dead man. In a blink, she took note of his hunched shoulders, his bruised face, the drooplets of blood on his shirt, and... the stab wound on his thigh, that wasn't there before.

Then he turned his head and their gazes met.

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I hope you're still on board ! I'm a bit afraid Karen is ooc in there, but...  
Let me know what you think !


	5. 5 Reunion

Sorry for the lack of update ! I was busy...

So, they're finally back together, but the night isn't over yet ! :P

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Frank's eyes grew wide as he took note of her presence in front of him, the weapon she was carrying and the vest she was wearing. His expression was a mix of shock and... and awe. Because of that, along side the relief that overflew her, Karen couldn't help but let out a little laugh.

"Oh my... I'm... you're..."

She stammered, struggling to find the words.

"You're okay ?" She finally asked.

He nodded. She smiled awkwardly at him and stepped closer to a table where several tools were lying down, looking for something to cut him free. While doing so, for a brief instant she asked herself when "okay" had started to mean « I'm not dying and the pain is bearable » to her. Of course, since she had met certain vigilantes, violence had become a bit more common and – oh my god that was blood on that knife. Karen clenched her teeth and grapped a clamp instead, before kneeling behind Frank to cut the links around his wrists. He watched her from over his shoulder as she tried very hard to not focuse too much on his mutilated hand. She still had extracts from the tape flashing behind her eyes.

"There."

He immediatly reached for the piece of fabric against his mouth and unfold it. She got up again and faced him.

"Karen, that was stupid."

She rolled her eyes.

"You're not really in the best position to blame me, you know. I could even say it's the pot calling the kettle back..."

"No offense, but I'm more skilled that you."

She shrugged.

"What matters is that I was, apparently, more skilled than them... or more lucky, maybe."

"Yeah, more lucky, you said it, lady, and..."

"And it worked out okay." She interrumpted him.

"But it could not have ! You could have got yourself killed, for God's sake !"

Frank's expression had shifted for a split second – anger, fear, grief. He quickly regained his composure, but Karen was left speechless, feeling a bit guilty. She knew damn well he had nightmares about her death, that losing her would destroy him for good.

"I couldn't just do nothing. Sorry."

His features softened a bit and he reached out for her arm.

"Thanks. For... ya know, coming for me."

She smiled back.

"You're hurt ?" He continued.

Karen shook her head.

"No. I didn't know bullets still hurt through the vest, though."

He let out a low chuckle.

"Never noticed the bruises on my chest and back ?"

"Honestly, Frank, I don't even look at your bruises anymore."

"… Fair enough."

That was a half-lie – of course Karen still noticed his injuries, her heart aching each time she spotted a new one. She just didn't try to guess where they were coming from anymore.

This time again, her gaze trailed from his face – split lip, broken nose, large dark bruises already forming – to the stab wound on his thigh and his bloodied hand. It looked oh-so-wrong, with the cut-off finger. She bit her lip and forced her eyes to flew back to his face.

"Let's get out of there."

She nodded and offered him a hand to get up, then put her arm around him when he stumbled because of his injured leg.

"That's bleeding a lot." She stated in what she hoped to be a steady voice.

Frank grunted in response and looked down. His jeans appeared almost black and the stain was still growing.

"You got anything that could work as a tourniquet ?"

"Uh, yeah, I think, I... let me see."

Karen took her bag off her shoulder and put it on the chair – god, there was blood there too – to reach for its insides, but her search was pointless.

"There, Karen, on the table. There are straps like the ones they used to tie my hands."

"… Okay."

She grabbed one and he helped her adjusting it around his leg. By the end of the task her hands had turned red and it was disturbingly warm and sticky.

"You're sure it's fine ?"

He shrugged, and that make her sigh. Well, no need to argue there, she knew how stubborn Frank could be. Besides, even if it wasn't fine, they weren't much things they could do, so it would have to do it.

"How come you've been stabbed, by the way ? They didn't... uh... film that."

She really didn't like that grin on his face.

"Let's just say I wasn't ready to cooperate."

Karen shook her head in disbelief.

"God, you're quite a piece, you know that ?"

Without really acknowledging it, she had moved closer to Frank. He looked down at her and, in a blink, their lips were touching. She grabbed his arm, deepening the kiss, then pulled away. Their gazes were still locked up, blue and brown. He laid his hand on the side of her face for a bit, his thumb tracing the curve of her jaw, leaving there a trail of blood. She closed her lids, mouth half-open, breathing in the moment.

A grunt from the other side of the room startled them. Karen span around, heartbeat quickening immediatly, and noticed the man she had shot earlier, trying to straighten himself up against the wall. His white shirt was turning red and blood was pouring down his chin, but he was still breathing – and, more worrying, he had his phone in his hand. The cold blue light darkened the shadows on his face.

"So touching, the little reunion, you know..."

His laugh turned into a wet cough.

"But now others are coming. And you won't have the surprise benefit."

Frank snatched the riffle Karen had laid down earlier on the table, aimed and took the shot within a second. The other's body become numb, but it was too late. There was no way they were getting out of this building without spreading more blood – she solely hoped it won't be theirs.

"What are we..."

"Got your pistol, Karen ?"

"Yeah, it's... it's right here."

She reached for her bag, hands shaking. When she looked at Frank again, she was almost afraid by his blank expression and his eyes... god, so dark, void and ruthless, shark-like eyes.

"They're still gonna have a little surprise right here." He stated in a low, dangerous tone.

She rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt and clenched her .380 harder.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do this."

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Thanks for sticking with me that long ! And remember, follows and reviews are what keep me going ;)


	6. 6 Together

A little bit more action ;)

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That was how they found themselves waiting in that room where there was still the bloodied chair, the camera in a corner and a dead man with a phone in his hand. The barrel on their guns was aiming at the door Karen had come through not ten minutes before – soon or later some men were going to step inside and they would not get a friendly welcome. Thanks to the asshole that thought it was a good idea to brag about the others coming to kill them, no side would have the surprise benefit, and maybe their opponents would be more than a little bit spooked by the bodies they would have stumbled accross on their way there.

"Nice vest, by the way, Karen. 'Fits you pretty well."

She scoffed, then acted like she was adjusting a fine piece of clothing on her frame, gaining a smirk from him.

"Isn't it ?"

"It was smart to bring it."

She couldn't help but feel proud.

"Do you want it back ?" She asked.

Frank shook his head.

"Hell no, sweetheart, keep that on you. S'not your time to die."

"It's not yours either." She pointed out purposelessly.

He didn't answered, rather re-adjusting his handle on the riffle.

"'Feels like that thing had been used rather recently."

"Um, yeah, I guess..."

He glanced at her

"Dead ?"

"Most are."

Karen wondered when it had become that easy, to pull the trigger. It wasn't her first kill, of course – there had been Wesley, obviously, but also some more, in self defense, whenever her investigations lead her in the shadiest parts of the city. There were also those she didn't shot but who died because of her anyway, at the hand of her guardian angel.

The thought make her look at him from the corner of her eye. His breathing was heavy but under control, his gaze locked to the other end of the corridor, his finger steady on the trigger. Her heart clenched at the sight of his mutilated hand. She glupsed down her saliva and forced herself to focus back on the fight to come. Footsteps were echoing along the walls and they seemed to be closer by the second. Her grip on her .380 tightened.

"If there is more than one asshole, you took care on the ones on your left."

Karen nodded, doing her best to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest. Why the hell was she so scared now ? Maybe it had something to do with the presence of Frank by her side, the assurance she could rely on him, she didn't have anymore to be strong to stay alive, and...

Her train of thoughts was cut off by the apparition of a man in front of them. She gasped, went to aim, but he was already falling on the ground, head-shot cleanly.

After that, it was chaos. She fired two or three times, gunshots and screams making her ears ring. She realized their opponents were wearing in combat gear, with bullet-proof vests like the one she was wearing. She moved in a haze, on instinct, breathing steadily, locking a target – their heads, mostly – and pulling the trigger without a second thought. A bullet hit her, right in one of the skull's eyes, but this time she barely felt the sharp pang of pain.

Rather quickly – even though it seemed to have been much longer, the fight was over, and four men were laying dead. They were probably the three watchmen the gang had talked about, plus one who hadn't found himself in her way before. Karen lowered slowly her pistol and all of a sudden the overhelming smell hit her. Her stomach clenched and she fought back a wave of nausea. No, she wasn't going to throw up, no, that was not an option.

"You're okay, Karen ?"

Frank sounded worried. She only managed to let out a weak « yes », before turning her head to scan his body for injuries – for new injuries at least.

"Nah didn't managed to shoot me either." He reassured her. "We're a good team."

He almost sounded prood and that make her laugh – rather hysterically, she had to admit. He leant up his assault riffle by his side and reached out for her arm with his good hand.

"Hey, Karen, shh, shh, it's okay. We got no choice."

"I know."

She laid down her gun too, took a deep, shaking breath, and rubbed her face, leaving there trails of blood.

"Come on, we got to move."

She got up to her feet and helped Frank to do the same. He winced as he put some of his weight on his injured leg, and she wondered once more how he even managed to stand up. She felt like she was average when it came to bearing pain but she was pretty sure she would have already passed out if she was in Frank's shoes. God, the bruises she had gotten from the bullet impacts against her vest were like the strongest ache she could act through like it wasn't there, and it wasn't much.

"To the entrance building it is, then ?" She asked, pushing away her thoughts.

"Sounds good to me now that the place is cleared up."

The casual way he said those words make her slightly unconfortable and he seemed to notice it.

"Sorry."

Karen shook her head.

"They brought that on themselves." She simply said – trying to convince herself. "Let's go."

They circled the corpses on the doorstep while she looked at anything but them, feeling her stomach twist again.

"It looks like my article won't be very useful, after all."

Even she was surprised by how neutral she managed to sound like.

"I think those were just the handlers." Frank said. "Didn't look smart enough to be in command, so..."

"Big fishes are still out there, uh ?"

"Yeah. They probably gonna keep their heads low after what happened here but, well, they are still bad guys."

"And the police is going to catch them."

He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. But it becomes kinda personnal now, don't you think ?"

" _No_." She growled. "Let me try my way, at least."

"Your way as a journalist or your way as... uh... a female Punisher ?" He asked, eyeing the skull on the vest she was still wearing.

"Shut up, Castle, you got what I meant."

Karen looked at him and then smirked :

"Though I prefer being called a lady than a female."

.

Thanks, again, for sticking with me that far ! Two more chapters to go, it should be more quiet now ;)

Any thoughts to share with me ?


	7. 7 Encounter

Sorry I couldn't resist introducing this character XD  
(Also I realize while writing that the chapter might be from Frank's pov, instead of Karen's... Well,it sounds good, so I decided to roll with it - especially because I really enjoyed writing the end, you'll see -, hope you don't mind)

.

« I'm almost done ! »

Frank grunted in response, before glancing through the door. Karen was half bent over a laptop that had caught her attention when they had walked past that room. She was hoping that it belonged to the gang – it did – and that it contained interesting data – apparently, it did too, because she had been searching through the files for several minutes now. Her fingers were nervously tapping against the table as she waited for them to get copied on the USB stick she had found laying not far away. She had decided to leave the computer there, so she would not have to explain how the hell she had found it – she suspected that « I killed all the men guarding a warehouse to get to my boyfriend, who also happens to be the Punisher » would not please the NYPD.

Quiet footsteps reached his ears and his head snapped in the direction of... a man dressed in red and black leather.

« Frank. Why am I not surprised to find you there ? »

He just sighed. Of course the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had to come check on those assholes tonight – recently their paths had crossed far too often according to his tastes, and he had probably heard about Karen's new target. If at least Red had been there sooner, it would have prevent her to come on her own and get her pretty hands dirty for him again... but no, the horned vigilante was just up to lecture him again about second chances and justice and all that bullshit.

« Didn't came on my own will. » He grunted, hoping rather unrealistically it would deter Matt to go on with this conversation.

The other man titlted his head a bit – he looked confused, even though only the lower part of his face was visible with his mask.

« That's not gunshot wounds. » He stated, gesturing to Frank's body.

« No shit. »

« What happened ? » He shook his head.

Well, it looked like he won't get any peace until he explained the situation, so...

« Karen's investigatin' on those assholes, they found out about it, got pissed. They tried to come after her first, but she's been careful, ya know. So they decided it was a good idea to kidnap her... her boyfriend, beat him up and sent her the tape with a threat. »

The devil took a few secs to process the information then, after he had finally understood that Karen's « boyfriend » was just in front of him, he let out a dry laugh.

« Well, I guess they lay their hands on the wrong person. »

Frank hold back a grin. Man, he really wanted to see Matt's face when he would realize he isn't the only one who killed those men.

« But Karen ? » The devil said, like an answer to his own thoughts. « She must be dead worried. Does she know you're okay... or free, at least ? »

« Yeah, of course she knows. She is- »

He was interrupted before he got the chance to finish his sentence :

« She is the one who make sure he is. »

Frank turned his head to discover Karen, leaning casually against the door frame, a smile playing at the corners of her lips – Karen, with her golden hair, her pale skin, her pencil skirt – Karen, with her .380 tucked in the waistband of said-skirt, blood on her hands and face, white spray-painted skull bright on her chest.

Matt's mouth dropped open in shock and Frank had to suppress a scoff. « Weren't expectin' that, were ya ? » The blind man turned to face Karen.

« But you... you're the one who... or... ? » He stammered, looking so lost Frank almost felt pity for him – almost.

« But those... damages... they were done by an assault riffle, not a handgun. »

His tone was relieved, but Karen didn't hesitate a single second to disabuse him.

« Yes, I came in with this one. » She explained, pointing to the gun Frank was currently holding.

Matt was speechless for a while – again.

« Where... where did you learn ? » He finally managed.

She rolled his eyes and gestured towards Frank.

« Take a guess, Matt, take a guess. Whose vest am I wearing ? »

The owner of said-vest wondered if Red could really know about the skull there, but maybe he could at least sensed that it was slightly oversized and, anyway, Karen didn't own anything of that kind.

Matt turned to Frank, ready to blame him.

« What have you done ? This... this isn't her. »

Karen stepped in, pointing her forefinger at the devil's chest.

« Don't assume you know who I am, Matt, don't ever. All you see in me is the pretty assistant you had to rescue several times – and I might have been her in the past, but I'm done. I'm done with being targeted all the time and relying on others to defend me. So now, I'm taking matter into my own hands, you see ? I'm going to care of myself and of those who matter to me, nevermind the cost. »

Frank smiled, and there was no amusement or irony in that smile, just admiration. That, that was his lady – or rather, the lady that came into his life like a storm, with blazing blue eyes and an inner light that nothing could tame, and got him right from the beginning, when she overstepped that line in the hospital, and all the other ones afterward, staying at his sides when the whole world was against him. She wasn't his, but he definitly was hers. She was his anchor, a lighthouse in his darkness – she was the one that kept him alive, alive and human, she was the one that push him back from the edge of losing himself with her burning determination.

Karen did was beautiful, gentle, sensible, but she was also so much more than that – and it was what Matt failed to notice – she was strong, fierce, righteous. She was a warrior angel – and for god's sake, did he love her – it burnt, it scared him, but he would do anything to be with her and to protect her smile, even if that meant anything else would light up in ashes.

.

Thanks for reading ! There is just one more chapter now...

Remember, kudos and reviews are always a good motivation ! ;)


	8. 8 Home

Last chapter... !

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The red digits of the alarm clock were glowing lightly in the darkness of their room. Almost two a.m. That wasn't very late, not by their standards, but they were both exhausted. Their clothes had been tossed on the floor carelessly, weapons and bullet-proof vest on top of them. Tomorrow they would decide from which ones the blood could be washed out, the riffle and the vest would get back to the basement they belonged in, the .380 would be hided again in the nightstand... But tomorrow was another day.

"I'm calling in sick to work." Karen mumbled into the blanket.

She had stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes ago, with only her sleep pants on and her hair slightly wet from her shower, had dropped face first on the bed and hadn't move an inch since. Ugly purple bruises were forming on her pale skin.

"Me too."

She lifted her head.

"No shit, Frank. You don't really look like someone who could do a physical job right now."

He had been barely able to walk by the time they exited the warehouse, to the point he had accepted Matt's help without much of a fight. Karen swallowed the lump in her throat as she recalled stitching the wound – it was deep and still oozing.

"Have seen worst."

"I know."

 _Though I would rather not._

Frank shifted a bit, ignoring the protestations of his cracked rib, and reached to her shoulder.

"Come here, Karen."

"Don't wanna move..."

"It's too cold to be on top of the blanket."

She grumbled and straigtened herself up, sitting back in the middle of the bed. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaled slowly, looked at Frank.

"That... that was..."

The words died on her lips.

"That was one hell of a night, yeah."

Karen nodded absent-mindly, then she finally proceeded to ease herself under the blanket. She laid down her head on her flexed arm, facing him.

"I love you." She whisper, so low that he almost didn't hear it. "I have been so afraid that... that maybe I might lose you..."

There was a tremor in her voice – she sounded like she was on the break of tears.

"Sh, sh, Karen, it's okay. I'm okay. I'm here."

Frank brushed his thumb accross her cheek, then closed the space between them. Her lips were soft against his. When they broke the kiss, neither of them moved appart, and her breath was warm against his skin. He closed his eyes.

At that point, Karen's gaze felt on her left hand, a few inch apart from both their faces, and she propped herself up on one elbow. Under his puzzled gaze, she took off the ring on her thumb and handed it to him.

"It's yours."

She was scanning his face for any reaction, but it was unreadable. She smiled awkwardly, then hold back a sigh of relief when Frank finally reached out for the jewel. He looked at it for a few sec, turning it over in his fingers, then eyed his mutilated hand. The sight of the bloodied bandage made Karen's heart sink and she fought back the urge to look away.

"I don't know if you still want to wear it, or..."

She trailed off, bit her lower lip. His gaze met hers.

"Of course I still wanna wear it."

He finally put the ring on his right hand – the good one -, then his lips twitched in the shadow of a smile. Karen tried to smile back, felt something give away inside her and she began to cry. She wasn't sobbing or anything, she stayed very still, looking at Frank through her blurred vision, as the tears felt down her cheeks. He seemed shocked at first, then his expression softened. He opened his mouth, closed it, at a loss for words – as always – and finally he just grabbed her hand and squeeze it. Her grip tightened as she noticed the cold of the right against her fingers.

"That... that was my fault."

Her voice was shaking.

"You... getting injured... because of me..."

"Ya know, I'm good at it all by myself." He tried to joke, to make her feel better.

She let out a sad laugh.

"That's why you really didn't need that, after... after all."

"I've put you in danger more than once, Karen, so that's more than fair."

"You didn't had the choice." She insisted. "I... I could have backed up... leave this story alone..."

"No offense, sweetheart, but we both know you can't do that."

She pulled her hand away from his. The silence stretched out between the two of them. There was just the distant noises on the city – the whailing of sirens, some tires screeching in the street below their flats, even in the middle of the night. New York never slept.

Karen had stopped crying.

"I killed again."

She kept her eyes locked on a point of the sheets, not daring to meet his.

"I didn't even know how many men I shot today."

She paused for a long, long time.

"I always thought it was the line, that you were a psycho when you stopped counting."

She looked up at him and suddenly her face twist in... in something Frank had hoped to never catch on her pretty features. Fear. Disgust.

When he laid out a tentative hand in her direction, hoping he read her expression wrong, she pushed the blanket away and got up. Hell, that hurt much more than any physical injury he could get.

"Do you know how many men you've killed ?"

He didn't even bother to answer – she knew damn well he didn't. _He_ had always thought counting was what drove you crazy.

Karen ran a hand through her hair.

"Do you think that makes me a bad person ?" She said.

That was when Frank realized, in a flash, that the person she was afraid and disgusted by was, not him as he had thought, but herself. Oddly, that wasn't really conforting.

"No, Karen, of course not."

He tried to get closer to her, but a shot of pain running though his leg told him otherwise.

"Don't you dare think that, don't you dare. You heard me, Karen ? You're the best person I've ever met, the one with the biggest heart... And I'm not saying that because I love you. God, I love you _because_ of that. Because of your light."

She was staring at him, speechless.

"But you're not naive, you know what this world is. You know you have to fight to not let it snuff out your light. And that was what you did today."

"I... I don't really know if that's the truth, but... thank you."

She slipped back under the blanckets, so close that he felt her heat. Then her arms slipped around his body and she hugged him.

"I love you." She said again, the words escaping her lips almost like a prayer.

Her shoulders were shaking and he wondered if she was crying again. Her grip tightened and he couldn't help but let out a wince of pain. She began to pull back.

"Sorry, I f-"

Frank only hugged her harder.

.

Thanks for sticking with me that long, that really means a lot 3

As I said before, this was my first attempt at writing a multi-chapter fanfic, and it had been a cool journey ! Thanks to the ones who read, reviewed or followed, you help me go through it to the end !

And I'd love to hear your thoughts now that the story is over :)

(Btw, sorry if there are any mistakes, English isn't my mother tongue and I'm trying my best !)


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